Latest Posts by wintrb0rn - Page 2

HEADCANON :  war letters .

Prior to his deployment to the Italian Front and subsequent capture by the Wehrmacht troops at Azzano, Bucky wrote letters to his younger sister Rebecca religiously. At the time, she was only sixteen and had been living in a state orphanage in Park Slope, Brooklyn since their fathers death at Camp Lehigh. He also sent letters to Steve while he was training at Camp Lehigh for Project Rebirth, however, Steve wasn’t able to tell him that he had been selected by the USSR or that he had been accepted into the Army due to the secrecy of the project and Bucky was also not able to divulge much information about his duties.

He traded some letters with Connie as well, the pair of them often discussing the state of the war as she was a registered nurse, their letters would switch between casual banter and deep and vulnerable confessions of their struggles and challenges as either nurse or soldier, often attempting to uplift each other’s spirits through written word. One of Bucky’s letters included a pressed puglia that stained the letter purple.

After he and the other United Allies were rescued from the Hydra Prisoner Base, Bucky was reunited with Connie for a short time before he was deployed alongside Steve and the other Howling Commandos and Bucky returned to writing letters to Rebecca whenever he had the chance to sit down.

As before, he wasn’t able to divulge much information about their activities back to Rebecca so most of his letters discussed members non-classified information, usually details about the other Howling Commandos (such as Gabe Jones proficiency at the trumpet and Dugan’s terrible singing), in passing he would mention cities that he had passed through but was no longer residing, and other minor details about the people that he met from the various resistance groups that they worked beside against both Hydra, and Nazi Germany.

He continued to write to Connie as well, though the letters between them were few and far between due to their work.

Following the end of W.WII when the Smithsonian began developing the Captain America exhibit, members of the museum reached out to Rebecca as Bucky’s only living relative. She donated some of Bucky’s war letters to the museum where they picked and chose from those available to them to display for Bucky’s memorial. When Bucky began piecing together his history in 2014, he stole the letters that were on display to help trigger more of his suppressed memories.

he sat still, shoulders squared, jaw locked, still as death. he'd learned to outlast the worst kind of interrogations, the ones that broke men from the inside out. this wasn't that. not yet. but it smelled like the start of something close. he watched her, his expression neutral and unreadable even was she spoke, words a double edged sword and smile that was all slow edges and dangerous knowing. the silver at her wrist caught the light, a rhythm of movement that should have been casual but wasn't. a distraction maybe. a tell. or both.

he exhaled through his nose, slow. controlled. he didn't answer, something akin to blunt defiance lacing itself into his gaze. if she was fluent in silence then she'd know he had very little intention of bowing under the weight of time.

❝ no one is keeping me, ❞ the man said, voice rough as spent gunpowder, ❝ i'm right where i want to be. ❞ hydra thought they were chasing him. thought he'd slipped, let himself be hauled into the station compliant and docile, an easy target. but while they'd been chasing him, he'd been hunting them. the real fight hadn't started yet, but it would.

❝ what about you? ❞ he asked conversationally, ❝ were you made to be kept? ❞

056: a police station in the middle of the night. -`♡´- › @wintrb0rn

the fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a hollow,  mechanical rhythm,  casting the police station in a sickly,  artificial glow.  clea sat across from him,  legs crossed,  fingers lazily tracing the silver charms at her wrist — just another rhythm,  another pattern.  her hazel eyes gleamed,  not with kindness,  but calculation,  drinking in every micro-shift in his posture,  the way his metal fingers curled,  the tension in his shoulders that never truly left.  ❝you don’t have to talk, ❞ she murmured,  her voice velvet-soft,  but edged with something serrated.  ❝but silence is a language,  too.   &  i’m fluent.❞ the two-way mirror behind her reflected their tableau in distorted light,  an audience lurking unseen.  she didn’t bother looking.  let them listen.  this conversation wasn’t for them.   

it wasn’t the police holding him here.  not really.  the moment bucky barnes set foot in this station,  the real players had taken notice.  ghosts in government files,  voices that operated just beneath the skin of the world — people who didn’t believe in loose ends.  he fit the profile too well: a relic of war,  a weapon out of time,  a mind too dangerous to be left unchecked.  if he didn’t walk out of here soon,  he wasn’t walking out at all.  clea tilted her head,  a slow smile ghosting across her lips.

 ❝they’re waiting you out,  hoping time will wear you down.  but you  &  i both know — time’s never been their weapon.  it’s always been ours. ❞ her voice dipped,  quiet,  sharp.  ❝you don’t have to trust me.  but if you let them keep you,  you’ll be theirs.   &  you weren’t made to be kept,  were you,  soldier?❞

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLIDER (2014) dir. Anthony & Joe Russo

Criminal Sentences, Vol. 25

(Sentences from various sources for criminals and/or dangerous muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I want to liberate your truest self: the beast that prowls around your heart."

"A wise man would walk away from this house and make a concerted effort to forget everything that occurred last night."

"We had an arrangement. You don't come here."

"Don't play games. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm not so easy to kill."

"I really want to apologise for, you know, the massive crime I've committed."

"The thing is, what you're asking, it isn't easy - and it sure isn't free."

"Are you worried I'm going to shoot him or something?"

"The next time you come in here without my permission, you and me are going to have a problem."

"Listen, I have just left a very enjoyable evening with some old friends to come and murder a hired contract killer for you, so let's tone down the judgement a tad, shall we?"

"I think if you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already."

"Everyone has their weaknesses. Don't mind me as I find yours."

"You should know that I've had eyes on you recently, so I know everything."

"I've always been preternaturally inclined to violence. I was exposed to it from an early age."

"What were you trying to prove by doing this? Just showing me that you're good at sneaking into places you're not wanted? I already knew that!"

"I've tasted success, and it's a meal I now wish to devour."

"Holy christ, you're a morbid fuck!"

"I'll be sure to call next time I need someone threatened."

"You have no sense of the terrors I will bring onto you."

"You don't even know what you're dealing with, do you?"

"Some of us get harder as we get older, and some of us get soft."

"Who the hell are you to order me around?"

"You're not going to survive coming after me."

"People like you and me, we don't get to ride off into the sunset - but we get to stay around and watch the stars come out, and that's not nothing, I suppose."

"We don't have to trust each other, we don't even have to like each other, but we have to work together on this."

"You should be more afraid of me."

"Death excites you, doesn't it?"

"Do you have to enjoy my discomfort quite so much?"

"Because I murder with will and not like a blind animal, you think me a monster. Yet, how many corpse have you left in your wake?"

"If you want my help, you'll do as I ask."

"Do not fool yourself; you cannot lie to me."

"You're a very suspicious person."

"Do you still have that rocket launcher?"

"Do you carry a knife everywhere now?"

"You offer me a normal life. Why do you think I want that anymore?"

"Why are you consulting with that traitor?"

"That's really not the legal loophole you think it is."

"I just realised what you're most afraid of."

it was difficult to hear her utter the same questions and uncertainty that plagued his every thought since regaining some semblance of identity. how often had he asked himself the same question? pondered the same inevitability of disbelief and raw undiluted regret and guilt and pain? he felt not unlike the blind leading the blind. hopelessly underprepared and praying she didn't notice.

❝ make something new. ❞ he knew he would never be the same man that he once was. he remembered how the war had changed him. hardened him, made him callous and vindictive. unapologetic in his fury. and his time as hydra's weapon, their personal attack dog, had left him haunted and broken. he could never go back to how he had been before all the blood and violence, but maybe he could forge a new version of himself that wasn't so . . . lost. the same had to be said for her as well.

i want to believe you, she said. he wouldn't tell her that he wanted to believe him too. bucky offered her a half smile when she said pancakes, nodding in agreement as he glanced down at the menu. ❝ i'm more of a waffle guy. ❞

kara curled her fingers around the warmth of the coffee cup,  as if it could bleed into her,  as if it could thaw something frozen deep in her ribs.  she turned his words over in her mind — fail,  try again,  fail again —  &  felt the weight of them settle into the hollow spaces she didn’t like to name.   

❝i don’t know if i believe that,❞ she admitted,  voice quiet,  shaped from something raw  &  uncertain.  ❝coming back implies there’s something left to come back to.❞ she traced the rim of her mug with the pad of her thumb,  eyes fixed on the way the steam curled upward  &  disappeared.  ❝what if there isn’t?❞

the thought lodged itself in her chest,  thorned  &  bitter.  she didn’t look at him,  not yet.  instead,  she listened to the quiet,  to the sound of the world continuing without her permission — the scrape of a knife against toast,  the low murmur of a conversation she wasn’t a part of,  the distant hum of a jukebox playing a song no one was listening to.  a place that didn’t need her.  a life that had gone on without her.

 &  yet,  she was still here.  still breathing,  still speaking,  still wanting — god,  wanting.  something to hold on to,  something to tether her to the world,  something that made all the blood  &  ruin  &  loss mean something.  she had never known how to exist without purpose,  without someone else dictating her movements,  her thoughts,  her very identity.  without that,  what was she?  

her fingers flexed,  released.  a breath in,  a breath out.  ❝i want to believe you. ❞ the words weren’t quite hope,  not yet,  but they weren’t despair either.  maybe that was enough.  maybe wanting was the beginning of something that could be real.  ❝ … pancakes. ❞ it was a start.

this time when the smile came, it was easier, intentional. he watched the way that her eyes seemed to brighten with a challenge, an unspoken dare breathed out between them. she slipped passed him with practiced ease, light footed and smooth as silk, answering his teasing with some of her own.

he watched her for another handful of short seconds. the way she glanced back at him, how her fingers brushed over the abandoned shelves. he followed after her—something that was becoming effortless—and peaked over her shoulder as she drew pride and prejudice from one of the shelves. he remembered seeing the bright orange covers the hotel taft used to hand out to its guests like a gideon bible or a complimentary set of matches.

❝ who could say no to a little jane austen to finish the night? ❞ bucky retorted as he fell into step beside her. he didn't remember much of the novel itself, bits and pieces of the narrative and the writing style trickled into the forefront of his mind as they made their way to her designated rooftop spot. ❝ in one night? that's ambitious even for you. ❞ he said, amusement lacing itself into his voice as he spoke.

kara let her smirk linger,  the kind that meant trouble in the gentlest way.  ❝ alright,  no voices, ❞ she conceded,  tilting her head as if weighing the terms of their unspoken deal.  ❝ but we take turns. ❞ a flicker of challenge lit her eyes as she stepped past him,  brushing close enough for the scent of old paper  &  night air to settle between them.  ❝ &  since you’re so particular about your books,  i say we start with a tree grows in brooklyn. ❞

she didn’t wait for his answer,  only cast him a glance over her shoulder,  teasing,  daring,  as she stepped toward the doorway.   her fingers skimmed along the shelves as they made their way out,  movements lazy,  absentminded — until they weren’t.  she paused,  plucking a worn copy of pride  &  prejudice from where it had been tucked between heavier,  less inviting spines.  she held it up just enough for him to see,  lips curling at the edges.  ❝for variety, ❞ she remarked,  slipping it under her arm as she pushed open the door.  ❝unless you’re afraid of a little romance.❞

outside,  the night air pressed cool against her skin,  the city stretching wide  &  endless beyond them.  the rooftop she’d promised loomed ahead,  waiting,  their own private escape above the world.  ❝but don’t worry,  barnes.  i’ll read the good parts. ❞ a beat.  a wicked little grin.  ❝&  by that,  i mean all of it. ❞

he didn't know her well enough to object on whether or not she was always right, but he was relatively certain that she was right about this. he exhaled slowly, a habit more than anything else and while his expression remained carefully neutral, it was clear that his mind was racing, running through scenarios and weighting the risks against necessity.

❝ that's not going to work, ❞ bucky said, voice firm, ❝ i can't clear the building without setting off every alarm they've got. the second i start moving people, someone's gonna notice. cameras, guards, hell—just one wrong move and we're screwed before you even get to the bomb. ❞

it was an ugly thing to realise that killing people was a hell of a lot easier than saving them. ❝ we need a diversion. something to pull their attention, force them to readjust. like a better target. ❞

Amelia knew that she could talk for England, bouncing off facts and conclusions that sprawled into her head as if it were nothing, the odd looks that she often got, yet here Bucky was looking at her as if she were normal. "I'm always right" Amelia responded, for she had calculated every aspect inside of her mind. "..If we don't stop this from happening, then a lot of people are going to get hurt, and if I call my uncle and make it a national emergency.. he will be too slow, too many protocols and hurdles to get over" Amelia paused.

"we are going to have to do this ourselves..we don't have a choice" She could hear it now in the back of her head, Amelia Jessica Holmes you are reckless! The sound of John Watson's voice often invaded her mind, to try and give her some sense of simple reason. "I have dealt with people like this before, we will have to tread carefully and not be seen. Once I'm in there, I can disarm the bomb and you can help get everyone out. I suspect from that point, we will have, five minutes before they notice that something has gone wrong and probably ten minutes to truly be out of the building before hell breaks loose" She gave a small cock of her head, a slight smirk formed across her lips. "But that's always the fun of it, isn't it?"

requested by @livingincolorsagain insp

Bonus:

but what if i wrote war time letters that bucky sent to people that went up in the smithsonian ( until he stole them back post-tws )??? what then??

HEADCANON : early deployment .

Late 1941, following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Bucky voluntarily enlisted in the U.S. Army, driven by a sense of duty responsibility. He completed basic training at Camp Lehigh, where his natural athleticism and sharpshooting abilities quickly gained recognition. After completing advanced infantry and marksman training, Bucky was promoted to Sergeant due to his leadership skills.

In early 1943, the 107th Infantry Regiment was reorganized and reassigned to the 3rd Infantry Division, deploying to North Africa as part of the Tunisian Campaign. After landing in Algeria, the regiment was attached to U.S. II Corps and pushed eastward into Tunisia, engaging German forces in the Kasserine Pass and El Guettar. As a marksman and reconnaissance specialist, Bucky was frequently tasked with scouting enemy positions, providing overwatch for advancing infantry, and neutralizing high-value targets.

After North Africa, the 107th participated in the Allied invasion of Sicily (Operation Husky, July 1943), landing with the U.S. Seventh Army at Gela. Bucky and his unit took up defensive positions to support the landings, providing long-range fire and helping repel the Hermann Göring Panzer Division's counterattacks. Throughout the Sicilian campaign, he refined his mountain warfare, urban sniping, and small-unit tactics, often working alongside British Commandos, Free French Forces, and Italian partisans.

Following the capture of Sicily, the 107th joined the invasion of mainland Italy in September 1943, landing at Salerno. The fighting was brutal as German forces launched counterattacks to push the Allies back into the sea. During one engagement, Bucky’s unit was sent ahead to secure a strategic pass in the mountains, only to find themselves cut off and forced into a guerrilla-style fight, linking up with Italian resistance fighters to sabotage enemy supply lines.

By October 1943, the 107th was assigned a high-priority operation near Azzano, unaware of the Hydra experiments on Allied POWs in the area. While securing a strategic position, they were ambushed by Hydra forces wielding experimental weapons, leading to their capture and imprisonment in a Hydra weapons facility.

Jet Li, Mike Lambert - Unleashed aka Danny The Dog (2005)

❝ i think we've found enough books for one night, ❞ bucky said, ❝ we can always come back. this place doesn't look like it's going anywhere anytime soon. ❞ he added. her second option had bucky releasing a breath that wasn't quite a laugh but had the shape of one, something easy, something light.

❝ reckless, huh? ❞ the word rolled past his lips with ease. he leaned in just a fraction, a movement that wasn't meant to intimidate, but to tease.

❝ you want me to read to you, palamas? ❞ his voice was low, edged with something almost smug, but warm all the same. the tease came almost effortlessly, easier than it should've. a year ago, hell, even a few months ago, he would've let the silence settle there, but not now.

❝ if we're gonna do this, you should know—i don't do voices. ❞

kara watched the way his fingers curled around the book,  the deliberate care of it.  like he was holding something fragile,  something that mattered.   &  maybe it did.  maybe it was more than paper  &  ink,  more than a story — it was a bridge,  a tether to a past that hadn’t been entirely stolen.  she didn’t say anything,  just let the silence stretch,  let him have the moment.  some things didn’t need words.   

but when he looked at her,  something different flickered in his expression — lighter,  a ghost of something unburdened.  it made her chest ache,  just a little,  the way it always did when she caught glimpses of what could have been,  what still might be.  he tucked the book into his pocket,   &  she tilted her head,  considering his challenge.   

❝next adventure … right,❞ she exhaled a quiet laugh,  glancing around at the hollowed-out remains of forgotten stories.  ❝well,  we could always stick around,  find the weirdest book title in the place. ❞ her gaze flickered back to his,  something warm beneath the teasing.  ❝or i know a rooftop,  one of those places no one’s supposed to go but everyone does anyway.  good view,  bad idea.  but we could read there,  if you’re feeling reckless.❞

❝ then i'm not saying it right, ❞ bucky mumbled, because what he was asking her to do was the hardest thing he'd ever attempted. coming back from a lifetime of war, blood, pain, and violence was a constant work in progress and most of the time he felt as if he were performing for some invisible judge, jury, and executioner. ❝ it's not easy. it's the hardest thing you'll ever do. you'll fail, you'll try again, you'll fail again. ❞

bucky turned the mug of coffee absently in his hand. watched the steam rise from the surface and tried not to lose himself in the ordinariness of the motion. he didn't look at her when she asked about him, instead, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. truth be told, he tried not to think about it.

❝ i don't know, ❞ he said finally, ❝ but i believe it matters that we try. ❞ he nursed his jaw for several short seconds before he met her eye again, ❝ i don't have all the answers. i'm making this up as i go, but i do know this: you're not too far gone that you can't come back, kara. ❞

kara let the silence stretch between them,  let it settle around her like a weighted blanket,  unfamiliar but not unwelcome.  no history.  no past.  just now.   she traced the rim of her cup with a fingertip,  watching the way the steam curled  &  disappeared.  ❝you make it sound easy. ❞ the words weren’t an accusation,  just an observation.  she wondered if he really believed it — that the weight of the past could be shrugged off so cleanly,  left outside like a coat too heavy for summer air.   

her fingers flexed against the ceramic.  ❝maybe it is.  for some people. ❞ she glanced around,  watching the other patrons — people who belonged here in a way she never could.  the man at the counter flipping through a newspaper,  the couple sharing a plate of fries,  the waitress moving through it all like she had done this a thousand times before  &  would do it a thousand times again.  ❝i don’t know if i can be one of them. ❞  but she wanted to be.  what she wasn’t sure of was what she wanted from him.  reassurance? permission? maybe just the chance to sit here  &  pretend,  for a moment,  that she belonged.   

the waitress set a menu down in front of her with an absent smile,   &  kara nodded her thanks.  the gesture felt small but significant.  normal.  she wrapped her hands around the warmth of the coffee cup,  inhaling the scent of something burnt  &  bitter  &  real.  she looked up at bucky again.  ❝&  what about you?❞ her voice was quieter now,  but steady.  ❝do you believe that? that we can just …  exist?❞  her gaze shifted from him. ❝ do you think we can ever have … more? ❞

the docks reeked of salt and rust, the brine curling in off the water and tangling with the sharp scent of oil slicks and cigarette smoke. bucky was midway through unloading a shipment when he saw him. limping slightly, a welt blooming ugly and purple along his cheekbone, just shy of his eye. a split lip, dried blood crusted at the corner. jacket dusted with grit and knuckles raw. bucky swore under his breath, setting the crate he'd been carrying down and ignoring the curious looks his coworkers shot him as he met him on the quay.

[ 05 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got while doing something the receiver warned them not to attempt alone.

❝ for chrissake, steve! ❞ bucky all but growled once he was close enough he wouldn't have to yell, ❝ i told you to wait for me. ❞ his fingers twitched—tempted to grab him, shake him, maybe slug him once for good measure. they'd heard about the harrisons through the usual gossip on their block. moved in a few weeks ago, two floors below his and steves. mrs. harrison was as sweet a girl as anyone could ask for and pretty as a doll, but mr. harrison was a stone cold drunk with a tendency to talk with his fists.

❝ how bad? ❞ bucky asked, lips pressing into a grim line because he knew. knew that if steve confronted the man half-cocked and alone then something had to have gone very, very wrong. // @sh1elded , injuries + aid prompts .

INJURIES + AID.

a collection of prompts in which sender comes to receiver for help with an injury, focusing on trust, vulnerability, and a little bit of embarrassment! various situations included, cw for injuries, implied self harm, and nsfw content!

add +reverse as needed, or specify extra details! in no particular order:

[ 01 ] sender comes to receiver with a wound they have been keeping secret and has become infected.

[ 02 ] sender comes to receiver for help with a wound they swore they could take care of alone.

[ 03 ] sender comes to receiver with an unrelated injury but happens to be covered in marks from a recent sexual encounter.

[ 04 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got during sex.

[ 05 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got while doing something the receiver warned them not to attempt alone.

[ 06 ] sender comes to receiver with an self-inflicted injury from unwise sword/bow/weapons practice.

[ 07 ] sender comes to receiver with a self-inflicted injury from a silly domestic (cleaning/cooking etc) accident.

[ 08 ] sender comes to receiver with a self-inflicted injury for which they provide no excuse.

[ 09 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location they cannot easily reach.

[ 10 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they do not remember getting.

[ 11 ] sender comes to receiver with an aggravated old injury they knew they needed to be careful of.

[ 12 ] sender comes to receiver having re-opened a healing wound.

[ 13 ] sender comes to receiver having ruined the dressing of a recent wound.

[ 14 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a sensitive/intimate location.

[ 15 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location that reveals an embarrassing/secret tattoo.

[ 16 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location that reveals scars that are not usually seen.

[ 17 ] sender comes to receiver with a problem that reveals an old injury they need to explain.

[ 18 ] sender comes to receiver with a problem they have had before, but has been previously shoddily cared for.

[ 19 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they're sure was a deliberate attack on them, though they have no evidence.

[ 20 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for a recent tattoo.

[ 21 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for a recent piercing.

[ 22 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for another recent body modification.

[ 23 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury that has been inflicted upon them as punishment.

[ 24 ] sender comes to receiver with a long-term injury they've finally decided to address.

[ 25 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury that reveals a long-kept secret.

the detective flipped through a notepad, a stalling tactic no doubt meant to make him nervous enough to slip up. james murphy, you said? they asked while staring down at the drivers license he'd provided. bucky neither confirmed or denied, only waited. he could've stood there all night while they poked and prodded, but he didn't have to.

[ ALIBI ]: the sender provides a false alibi to protect the receiver from legal issues.

steve fell into position at his side and the detective nearest him shifted instinctively. he was with me last night, steve lied. the detective studied steve for a beat before flicking a glance back to bucky to reassess. he'd been an unknown before, an enigmatic question mark but now, standing next to captain america, that question mark became something else entirely—something that didn't fit neatly into whatever theory they had been building about the gunfire fight down at the docks.

❝ we played cards, had a few drinks. ❞ bucky added smoothly. // @sh1elded , right place prompts .

you pick books like you pick your words, sharp. a little raw, she said. maybe he did. maybe that was how he picked all things, but kara didn't seem to mind it. be let the weight of the book settle, milk and honey wasn't the kind of poetry that soothed—it cut, left its mark, words that bled if you held them too long. he figured it was why it had felt right. some things weren't meant to be easy.

but then she pulled out a tree grows in brooklyn, and for half a second, his breath caught. she placed it in his hands and his fingers closed around it slow, deliberate, as if he was concerned that if he moved too fast it'd vanish. books had a nasty habit of disappearing, being left behind, taken, or like the library, forgotten. it had been a long time since he'd seen this particular book and while it wasn't his old copy, it mattered. a link back to an different time. a ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, boyish and charming as he turned the book over in his hands and met her eye.

❝ i guess you do, ❞ bucky agreed tucking the paperback into his breast pocket for later, ❝ which means, you get to pick the next adventure. so what'll it be? ❞

kara turned the book over in her hands,  considering it.  poetry.  it wasn’t what she expected,  but it fit in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.  ❝you pick books like you pick your words,❞ she remarked,  flipping through the pages.  ❝sharp.  a little raw. ❞ there was no teasing in it,  just quiet observation,  the kind that sat between them without needing to be acknowledged.  she thumbed through a passage,  letting the weight of his choice settle before she finally looked up.  ❝i’ll take it. ❞

she let the silence stretch,  long enough for the weight of his pick to settle between them,  before she reached behind her,  pulling her own real find from where she’d tucked it away.  the thin volume of poetry shifted in her grasp as she held up the worn copy of a tree grows in brooklyn.  ❝but i did take you for this type, ❞ she said,  softer now,  a quiet triumph in her voice.  the book was old,  its spine softened with use,  the pages yellowed at the edges,  but it was whole.  whole in the way that mattered.  ❝thought you might like to have it again.❞

❝found it buried in the back,  tucked away like someone meant to come back for it.❞ she didn’t say what she was really thinking — that maybe it had been waiting for him.  she placed it in his hands without flourish,  without expectation.  just a quiet offering.  his fingers closed around it,  lingering,  and that was enough.  kara nudged him lightly as she turned back toward the stacks,  a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips.  ❝guess i win this round. ❞

he leaned back in the booth, the vinyl creaking under his weight and his gaze steady on her as she studied their surroundings. he let her words settle, let the silence stretch between them, thick as the late-night air. i see a place that doesn't need me. he knew that feeling well. places like this didn't wait, didn't give a damn who walked through the door or who never came back.

she searched his face, looking for something, but bucky had spent years making sure people found nothing. still, she pressed, peeling at the edges, pulling at the threads to get to the center of it all. ❝ it's part of the idea, ❞ he acknowledged, ❝ you sit down, you exist for a while, and none of it hinges on who you used to be. ❞ he tapped a finger against the table absently. ❝ no history, no past weighing you down, just now. ❞

there was more to it, other bits and pieces he was able and willing to share, but not yet. for now, he wanted her to sit with it. the concept of existing in a space that so many others did as well. the waitress, a woman pushing late fifties with greying hair around her temples and a friendly smile despite the shadows of exhaustion around her eyes, poured them both cups of burned coffee and encouraged them to view the specials menu. he thanked her. mundane. ordinary. human.

her gaze swept the room,  taking in the flickering neon sign reflected in the window,  the linoleum scuffed from years of tired footsteps,  the old man nursing a cup of coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.  it smelled like burnt grease  &  something sweet,  like pie left too long under a heat lamp.   

❝i see a place that doesn’t need me.❞  the words felt like they weren’t meant to be spoken aloud,  but they slipped past her lips anyway,  quieter than she intended.  her fingers curled,  then relaxed against the edge of the table.  ❝but you brought me here anyway.❞ a beat.  a breath.  ❝why?❞

she searched his face,  looking for something — an answer,  maybe,  or proof that he had one.  there was something careful in the way he watched her,  something patient,  like he knew she’d get there on her own if he just gave her time.  but she didn’t want time.  she wanted to understand.   

her gaze dropped to her hands,  the way they rested against the tabletop,  steady but foreign.  ❝places like this…❞ she started,  then exhaled,  shaking her head.  ❝they exist with or without us.  people come in,  sit down,  drink their coffee,  complain about the weather.  it doesn’t matter what we’ve done,  or where we’ve been.  we could disappear,   &  this place would go on like we were never here at all.❞

her voice was even,  but there was something frayed at the edges of it.  she wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe it or if the thought of it terrified her.  her eyes found his again.  ❝is that the idea?❞

amelia holmes talked fast, and thought faster. words spilled out like she was five moves ahead and barely waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. bucky had seen minds like hers before—brilliant, untethered, always running at a pace most people couldn't follow. he let her talk. let her lay out her theory, the threads of logic she w as weaving together, the patterns only she seemed to see. he didn't interrupt. just watched. listened. measured every word against the instincts that kept him alive longer than they had any right to.

a pause as she took a breath and only then did she seem to notice that he hadn't responded. not yet anyway.

❛ don't worry, i'm not crazy. least, i don't think so. ❜

bucky held her gaze for a beat. the ghost of something unreadable in his expression as he waited. maybe she wasn't crazy, or maybe she was just the kind of crazy that made sense to him. but he'd learned early on that sanity was subjective.

❝ i don't care if you're crazy, ❞ bucky said finally, ❝ i care if you're right. ❞ because if she was, and he thought she was, then a lot of people were in danger and the only people who had any clue, was them. // @tcbefearless / amelia , silent hill prompts .

right place, right time prompts.

so i got watching a ton of new tv shows lately, and it occurred to me that actually i do love it when characters are unexpectedly saved by someone who just happened to be exactly in the right place at precisely the correct moment, yk? and i failed to think of the right name, so the title of this list is entirely thanks to a very dear friend of mine who informed me! so here's a list, i hope you guys love it, DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR EDIT IT!!! i like to edit them over time as new ideas come to me.

[ ALIBI ]: the sender provides a false alibi to protect the receiver from legal issues.

[ HAND ]: the sender suddenly arrives to grab the receiver's hand before they fall to their death

[ CAR ]: the sender arrives on scene as the impromptu getaway driver for the receiver (who hadn't been expecting it).

[ FATAL ]: the sender unwittingly arrives on scene when the receiver is being attacked, and to protect the receiver, they kill the assailant.

[ DISTRACT ]: the sender provides a diversion so the receiver can escape a dangerous situation.

[ OUT COLD ]: the sender knocks out an assailant before they can seriously wound the receiver.

[ DUNNO ]: the sender lies about the location of the receiver in order to protect them from pursuers.

[ FAKE ]: the sender, in a situation where they're forced to kill the receiver, only pretends to kill the receiver and takes their "dead" body away in the car.

[ SACRIFICE]: the sender sacrifices their life to ensure the receiver's survival.

[ BACK-UP ]: the sender arrives just in time to help the receiver in a fight.

[ EXCUSES ]: the sender provides an excuse for the receiver to stay at an event where they shouldn't be.

[ HIDDEN ]: the sender hides the receiver from pursuers.

[ SHELTER ]: the sender finds the unconscious receiver and brings them to a safe place.

[ HERO ]: the sender tackles the receiver out of the way of an attack.

[ RUN! ]: the sender tackles the attacker so the receiver can make a safe get-away.

[ FIGHT ]: the sender fights off the assailants so the receiver can flee to safety.

[ INTERCEPT ]: the sender unexpectedly emerges and stands between the receiver and a threat.

[ MISDIRECTION ]: the sender points a group of pursuers in the opposite direction to buy the receiver some time to hide.

[ SANCTUARY ]: the sender opens the door when the receiver knocks in search of help, and brings them into their home.

[ REPUTATION ]: the sender, being somewhat infamous in the area, arrives when the receiver is being hassled, causing the assailants to flee rather than risk the consequences of crossing them.

[ RECOGNIZE ]: the sender pretends to know the receiver in order to help them avoid unwanted attention.

[ AFAR ]: the sender incapacitates, distracts or kills an assailant from a distance to protect the receiver.

[ FRIENDS ]: the sender, unable to attend directly, sends friends over to protect the receiver when they encounter a threat.

[ NEGOTIATE ]: the sender intervenes in a tense situation and manages to smoothly persuade a potential threat to leave the receiver alone.

[ BRIBE ]: the sender gives a threat a significant amount of money to leave the receiver alone.

[ ANNOUNCE ]: the sender issues a declaration that the receiver is under their protection, assuring all potential attackers that any attempts will result in a brutal retaliation from them.

VERBAL PROMPTS:

" they're with me. "

" i was with them all night. "

" hey! these guys bothering you? "

" i wouldn't do that if i were you. "

" you must've really pissed those guys off, huh? "

" follow my lead... "

" don't worry. you're safe here. i won't let anyone hurt you. "

" you're lucky i found you when i did; those people were right down the street. "

" get in the car! now! "

" i'm gonna buy you as much time as i possibly can. make it count, okay? get out of here. now! "

" you can come out now. they're long gone. "

" nobody's going to hurt you like that again. "

&. 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝟐 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue prompts taken from the silent hill 2 remake, developed by bloober team. trigger warning for dark themes. feel free to change as you seem fit. )

❛ in my restless dreams, i see that town. ❜

❛ hey, it's okay. i didn't mean to scare you. ❜

❛ i'm kind of lost. ❜

❛ i guess i don't really care if it's dangerous or not. i'm going either way. ❜

❛ what happened to this town? ❜

❛ whatever it is, it's not human. ❜

❛ i didn't do anything! he was like that when i got here. ❜

❛ you wanna come with? maybe together we can find a way out of this town. ❜

❛ sorry, but i can't leave. not yet. ❜

❛ are you afraid? ❜

❛ did you find the person that you were looking for? ❜

❛ don't worry, i'm not crazy. least, i don't think so. ❜

❛ should i go with you? this town really is dangerous. ❜

❛ what's a big dumb-dumb like you doing here anyway? ❜

❛ hey, that's not very nice. didn't your parents teach you any manners? ❜

❛ do i look like your girlfriend? ❜

❛ i can't believe it. your face, your voice... you could be— ❜

❛ i don't look like a ghost, do i? see? warm. ❜

❛ i can show you if you want. unless you have somewhere else to be? something else to do? ❜

❛ hey, easy there. i'm just messing with you. ❜

❛ you're coming with me? can't you just tell me where it is? ❜

❛ what, you were just gonna leave me here? alone? with all these monsters around? ❜

❛ is it because i remind you of... her? ❜

❛ this place we're going to, what is it, exactly? ❜

❛ you ever stay in a place like this? the walls are so thin you can hear everything. love, hate, jealousy... ❜

❛ i think you just saved my life back there. ❜

❛ hey. you think i'd look good in this one? ❜

❛ this room... there's something wrong with it. i think we should leave. ❜

❛ oh, loosen up. it sure beats running around with those monsters out there. ❜

❛ what will you tell her if... when you find her? ❜

❛ oh, c'mon. don't give me that look. i was just kidding. ❜

❛ can we stay? just for a little while? ❜

❛ this place, this whole thing, it's like a nightmare. i just wanted to get away from it, even for a second. ❜

❛ here. something to take the edge off. ❜

❛ we should probably get going. ❜

❛ we could come back later, if you want. you know, in case we need a break. ❜

❛ i wanted to ask you... what if you can't find [ name ]? what will you do? ❜

❛ thanks for checking up on me. it's very sweet of you. ❜

❛ how do you know my name? ❜

❛ i'm sorry, but i can't let you just run around this place. you might get hurt. ❜

❛ please open the door. there's something in here. ❜

❛ i was almost killed back there! i've never been so scared in my whole life! ❜

❛ all you care about is that dead wife of yours. ❜

❛ you couldn't care less about me, could you? ❜

❛ stay with me. don't leave me alone again. you're supposed to take care of me. ❜

❛ i don't know, for some reason i feel like it's up to me to protect her. ❜

❛ well, whaddaya know... a stroll in the rain. how romantic. ❜

❛ i'm trying to keep things light. just humor me, okay? ❜

❛ you think you could give me a hand? ❜

❛ you're supposed to be the big man around here. how's a little girl like me supposed to help? ❜

❛ what's wrong? i thought you wanted to get out of here. ❜

❛ this place is different from what i remember. i guess... things never really stay the same, do they? ❜

❛ you... still don't want me to go with you? if we stick together, we just might make it out of here. ❜

❛ ain't no big deal. just put the gun to their head and... pow! ❜

❛ you can't just kill someone 'cause of the way they looked at you. ❜

❛ please. i'll be good. i promise. ❜

❛ it's always the same with you. you're only after one thing. ❜

❛ i don't know who you think i am, but i don't want to hurt you. ❜

❛ i thought that thing killed you...! are you hurt? ❜

❛ but that thing... it stabbed you. there was blood everywhere. ❜

❛ stabbed me? what do you mean? ❜

❛ honey... did something happen to you? ❜

❛ are you confusing me with someone else? ❜

❛ you said you took everything. but you forgot the videotape we made. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter who i am. i'm here for you. ❜

❛ see? i'm real. ❜

❛ don't you want to touch me? ❜

❛ i'll come back, i promise. ❜

❛ how many times do i have to kill you? ❜

❛ it doesn't matter if you're smart, dumb, ugly, pretty... it's all the same once you're dead! ❜

❛ you wanna talk down to me some more? tell me to relax? ❜

❛ you know i'll find you! ❜

❛ guess i deserved it, huh? the fartface that i am. ❜

❛ you got any other things planned? i think i saw a dark room back there you could lock me up in. ❜

❛ where are you? i'm waiting for you. please, come to me. ❜

❛ i think you were right. what we're looking for... it's not here. ❜

❛ thank you for helping me earlier... but i wish you hadn't. ❜

❛ i know what you are. i know why i needed you. but it's all over now. i don't need you anymore. ❜

❛ it'd be easier if they just killed me. ❜

❛ why are you still here? i told you to go. ❜

❛ wait! please don't go. don't leave me alone. i didn't mean what i said. ❜

❛ please... tell me i'll be okay. ❜

❛ i'm here for you. so what if i'm not her? ❜

❛ i can give you what she never could. i can be better than her. ❜

❛ what else do you want me to be? ❜

❛ i won't let you do this to me. i won't let you go. ❜

❛ the truth is, i hated you. ❜

❛ i wanted my life back. ❜

❛ i tried. i really did. but... i just... can't go on without you. ❜

❛ i can't forgive myself for what i've done. ❜

❛ i want you to go on. i want you to live. for yourself and for others. ❜

❛ you made me happy. ❜

seven deadly sins manifestation .

[ WRATH ] — he's always embodied wrath most naturally, before Hydra and before even the war, he has always been filled with fury towards those who abuse their power, who bully and belittle, and who harm. His wrath has only grown and become harsher, more precise and more person. He doesn’t just fight; he punishes. His control can slip, and the Winter Soldier’s brutality can emerge. Beneath this is another kind of anger—self-directed. He hates himself for what he did and for what he became.

[ SLOTH ] — he struggles with motivation, not because he doesn't care, but because caring hurts. There are days when he feels numb, when the weight of his past makes getting up and existing unbearable. He tries to force himself to act, to fight, but he rarely lets himself live. His sloth manifests in how he avoids emotional connections and vulnerability. He keeps people at arms length, afraid to form bonds, convincing himself he's better off alone to avoid the pain of attachment. At his lowest, sloth manifests as self-neglect—skipping meals, avoiding sleep, refusing to take care of himself because, at times, he doesn't see the point.

[ GREED ] — he doesn't and has never sought material wealth, his greed manifests in hoarding whatever peace he can find. He doesn’t trust easily, so when he does find something safe—a quiet corner of a city, a person who doesn’t look at him with fear, a cafe he feels comfortable—he clings to it. Similarly, he clings to sentimental objects and items, carries remnants of his past life as if letting go of them would erase what little he has left. His dog tags, Steve's old notebook and vinyls, letters from his sister stolen from the Smithsonian.

[ PRIDE ] — his pride is a double-edged sword. On one hand, he refuses help, believing he must atone for his past alone. He resists leaning on others, convinced that his redemption is his burden alone to carry which manifests in his lone-wolf vigilantism—he doesn’t want others involved, fearing they’ll get hurt or that they’ll see him as beyond saving. On the other hand, he struggles to accept kindness because, deep down, he doesn’t believe he deserves it. He seems constantly at odds with himself, proud of his skills and his abilities but ashamed of how he learned them.

[ ENVY ] — he struggles with envy. Feels it for those who live ordinary lives, who haven't experienced war, who retain innocence and optimism, who hold true to idealism and believe in humanity, kindness, love. He feels removed from these things, undeserving, robbed of being capable of it all and it can taint his interactions with people. He doesn't resent them, but there's a deep ache in him, a longing for a life he feels he'll never have.

[ GLUTTONY ] — isn't about food or indulgence with Bucky, instead it's about excess as a coping mechanism. He pushes himself too hard—training until his body aches, throwing himself into fights as if pain can make up for the past. He overindulges in isolation, in punishment, in guilt. He engages in violence not just for justice but because, in the heat of a fight, he feels something. His gluttony is about extremes—pushing himself too far, taking too much responsibility, refusing to allow himself balance.

[ LUST ] — It took a long time for Bucky to remember what desire really felt like, and even longer to let himself feel it without resistance. Lust for Bucky is about craving connection but fearing it at the same time. He wants closeness, but intimacy requires vulnerability, and vulnerability is dangerous. He yearns for it but when faced with the chance, he pulls away. His lust, then, is suppressed, redirected. He fights instead of embracing. He runs instead of reaching out. And in the rare moments he allows himself closeness, he does so like a man expecting it to be ripped away.

tagged by : @sangiusd3vil ♡ tagging : @memuntos ( zahra ), @staticveil , @disasteregyptologist , @kenosky , @d4ughter , @executiioner , @ru5t , @skiesfield and anyone else that would like to do it ♡

the bell over the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. the city noise vanished behind him and he was swallowed by the scent of old paper, dust, and something faintly floral. the place was cramped and lived-in, shelves packed so tightly they formed narrow corridors of leaning books, some stacked haphazardly on the floor.

bucky adjusted his gloves as he swept the room. patrons were sparce, he spotted her easily amongst the books. corinne delacroix, an elementary teacher. hardworking, kind, quiet, and if he was to believe his contact, in imminent danger.

a record player somewhere in the back crackled out an old tune, something soft and tired. he moved forward, inspecting the bookshelves, picking something at random—first edition alfred tennyson, not exactly in his price range—while carefully keeping her in his line of sight. // @rosewiltd , a semi - plotted starter .

the rain had turned the alley into a maze of shallow rivers, a forensics nightmare as it swept away any evidence that might have been left behind. he'd promised his neighbor to look into their missing kid. twenty-one, barely more than a name on a grainy photo, and gone without a trace. bucky crouched beside the warehouse door, the padlock was new, but the scratches around it weren't. someone had forced their way in before.

bucky grasped the lock and it shattered like plastic in his hand. it was the smell he noticed first as he slipped inside. the air was thick with the scent of oil and metallic—machinery or blood. a single work light hummed in the far corner, illuminating a table stacked with what looked like documents and some kind of ledger. he reached for the ledger just as he heard a pair of footsteps behind him.

he froze, gloved hand hovering over the ledger as he took in the sight of the stranger at the door he'd just broken into. // @d4ughter , a semi - plotted starter .

the nights in gotham weren't just dark—they drowned in shadow, swallowing men whole and leaving nothing but a cold whisper behind. he'd worked in cities like gotham before—berlin, moscow, madripoor—but gotham was something else. a different kind of beast with different kind of monsters.

he moved through the warehouse like a ghost, boots silent against concrete, a black silhouette against the night. hydra had been quick to use gotham as their backdrop, smuggling weapons, money, and other nastier things and he had no intention of letting them remain.

the floor is a maze of steel crates, some marked with shell corporation insignias, others left blank and unidentifiable. overhead, a single flickering bulb swung slightly, casting long, jagged shadows, and that was when he saw it.

a man, swinging from the rafters by his ankles. he hadn't done that. footsteps to his left alert him to a patrolling agent and bucky slipped quickly around one of the steel crates, raising to his full height to wrap his arm around the agent's and cut the weapon from his body in a single motion. he took him down quietly, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. a warning that he wasn't alone. // @bruz3r , a semi - plotted starter .

so . . . that was the game. a challenge made—she leaned into his knife, reckless and with no fear of injury, nor pain, nor death—and answered. he reached, cybernetic fingers wrapping like a vice around her wrist and forced the sai's fang away from his neck. ❝ you're not my target. ❞ he made no motion to stab her, but nor did he remove his knife from where it lingered against her stomach. ❝ and if i was yours, you wouldn't waste your time talking. ❞

The blade kissing into her skin elicits a grin from the assassin. She anticipated such a reaction. She had never been face-to-face with the Winter Soldier before, but she was not unaware of him. It was a matter of time before the top assassins for Hydra and the Hand found themselves atop the same rooftop. "The same could be said for you. You left my heart beating." She pulls herself into his blade, feeling the cold metal cut a little further into her skin. The assassin doesn't flinch. Her expression as cold as the Soldier's.

Elektra is no stranger to death. Death is a second home with the first being far beyond reach now.

he smiled, tight lipped and still slightly grim, but it was a smile nonetheless. he watched her go, only once she was out of sight did he turn his eye to the shelves of books. it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to really pay attention to what he was looking at. he picked his way through, trying to remember the last time he actually read a book for leisure at all.

eventually, she returned to him and bucky arched a brow as she presented him with her find. the teasing was gone now, but he knew the feeling well—the hesitation before offering a piece of yourself. he took the book from her hand and blew out a breath, the velveteen rabbit. his expression softened, thumbing through the pages absently.

❝ okay . . . i'm impressed, ❞ bucky admitted, ❝ i didn't think this place would have it. ❞ he turned the book over in his hands before presenting her with his own find. milk and honey by the poet rupi kaur. what is stronger than the human heart, he'd read while thumbing through the pages. ❝ we might need a third opinion. ❞

kara stepped further inside,  the dim light filtering through cracked windows,  tracing the curve of her cheek as she smirked over her shoulder.  ❝oh,  you’re on, ❞ she said,  voice laced with something playful but edged in challenge.  her fingers trailed along the spines of forgotten books,  their titles half-erased by time,  their covers worn soft like well-loved things.  there was something about places like this — untouched,  abandoned,  yet still breathing with the weight of words left behind.  ❝winner gets to pick the next adventure, ❞ she added,  glancing at him as if daring him to up the stakes. 

she disappeared into the stacks before he could answer,  moving through the rows with an ease that came from years of seeking refuge in places like this.  a quiet sanctuary,  where no one asked who you were before or what you might become.  her fingers stopped on a book with a cracked leather spine,  its gold lettering dulled but still there.  the velveteen rabbit.  she exhaled softly,  thumb brushing over the title.  a story about being loved into something real.  a story about survival.  about what it meant to endure. 

when she found him again,  she held it up without a word,  her gaze steady.  a moment passed between them,  something unspoken stretching in the quiet.  ❝i think i win, ❞ she said finally,  but her voice had lost its teasing edge.  there was something else there,  something weightier,  as if she was offering more than just the book.  a piece of herself,  maybe.  a quiet understanding,  waiting for him to take it not knowing that behind her back she held yet another surprise. ❝ you find anything?❞

he watched her as she studied him, expression unreadable, eyes sharp but not unkind. bucky couldn't be certain what it was that she saw when she looked at him but she looked at him like he had the answer to an unspoken question. maybe he did, and maybe he didn't. the blood at their feet was already beginning to set, thick and dark, and it would stay there for a while longer but eventually, it would disappear as all unclean things did.

bucky nodded, stepped past her and over the body, out of the shadows and into the cold, neon-lit street. he led the way out of the crime scene, keeping a casual pace and walking through side streets and back alleys as if it were second nature. they walked for a long time before his destination came into view.

the diner was nothing special—chrome-rimmed stools, and faded vinyl booths—it smelled like burnt coffee and cheap bacon grease, but bucky liked it for the same reason most people overlooked it: it was steady. real. a pocket of normal.

he slid into a booth near the window with a clear line of sight to the front and rear entrances. ❝ what d'you see? ❞ bucky asked when she joined him, nodding to their surroundings with an expectant glance.

kara exhaled slowly,  watching the blood spread into the cracks of the concrete like veins beneath fractured skin.  it would dry,  flake away,  be washed into the gutters until only the memory of it remained.  but the act — the choice — would linger,  another mark upon a soul already worn thin.  she had spent years telling herself that she was beyond redemption,  that the things she had done,  the things that had been done to her,  had calcified into something immovable.  but then bucky spoke,   &  the certainty wavered,  just slightly,  just enough to let in the smallest sliver of something else.  try.   

she turned her gaze to him,  searching for something she wasn’t sure she would recognize.  he knew — knew what it was to be made into something unrecognizable,  to wake up in the ruins of a life he could barely call his own.   &  yet,  he stood before her,  not unbroken,  but whole in a way she had never believed possible for herself.  if he could come back from it,  then maybe — maybe — she could too.  the thought was terrifying in its own way.  it was easier to be a blade,  a weapon with no need for softness,  no need for hope.  but hope,  she realized,  had already taken root the moment she had let him pull the gun from her hands.   

her fingers curled into fists,  then released.  there was no erasing what had been done,  no undoing the ghosts she carried,  but perhaps there was more than just this.  more than the endless cycle of blood  &  consequence.  when she spoke,  her voice was quiet,  but steady.  ❝then let’s start. ❞ not surrender,  not absolution — but a step.   &  for now,  that was enough. 

HEADCANON : dissociation & derealisation .

Bucky experiences dissociation, derealization, and hallucinations as lingering effects of his trauma, brainwashing, and fractured identity. Strangely, these moments don’t happen in high-stress or violent situations. When he’s fighting, running, or reacting on instinct, everything is sharp, real, and immediate. It’s only when things are quiet—when he’s sitting alone in an apartment, walking through a peaceful street, or drinking coffee in a café—that the world starts to blur. The stillness unsettles him more than chaos ever did. Without the constant need to survive, his mind has space to unravel, and that’s when reality begins to slip.

In crowds, the world warps and shifts. City streets become too bright, too sharp, and suddenly, he’s back in a cold bunker. If someone grabs his arm unexpectedly, for a split second, he’s strapped into the chair again, metal fingers twitching as his body braces for pain. Sometimes, his body reacts before his mind catches up.

Bucky can sometimes experience visual, auditory, and even olfactory hallucinations, each tied to echoes of his past. He sees fragments of people he once knew, glimpses of Hydra operatives, or flickers of moments long gone. Sometimes, a scent or a sound pulls him back—a whiff of gun oil, the barking of an order, or the distant hum of machinery.

Similarly, there are times when the world around him feels unreal, as if he’s moving through a dream. His hands—flesh and metal—don’t always feel like they belong to him. His reflection in a window might move out of sync, or worse, he sees his younger self staring back, before everything went wrong.

The derealisation can sometimes lead to Bucky losing time. He can zone out entirely—losing minutes, hours, sometimes even days—staring at a wall, or going about a day-to-day routine while operating on autopilot, caught somewhere between the past and present.

Extreme pain can also trigger Bucky's dissociative episodes, however, this hasn't happened since his arm was blown off as he hasn't allowed anyone to hurt him that badly since. Bucky has trained himself to recognise the signs of a dissociative episode and is capable of pulling himself out of it using coping strategies and techniques, but it can sometimes take time to do so.

@whumpgifathon | Day #25: ALT PROMPT "Begging" Upgrade (2018)